


Urs-A-Ka-Gan part 4

by primreceded



Category: Dark Tower - Stephen King, Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-24
Updated: 2009-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:24:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primreceded/pseuds/primreceded





	Urs-A-Ka-Gan part 4

“I feel like we’re on a freakin’ wild goose chase.”

Dean’s lost track of what day, what time it is. They’d hit Maine after having driven straight through again. His shoulder still throbs, but he’s been through worse, not even that long ago, and he’s learned to live with pain. Sam had demanded to check his sutures again, though, and that had cost them some time.

At their destination, Dean throws the car into park, and they climb out. The door's squeak drowns out the early night crickets for a few seconds, but then they’re back, chirping loud and close.

The house in front of them is pretty run down, but not unlivable. It reminds him of a house they stayed in when they were younger, a fixer-upper, rent free if they did the fixing. Sam at sixteen was as full of as much angst as he is now, legs coltish and still growing. Stupid floppy hair falling into his eyes and angry at everything. Their dad rented the place after Dean talked him into staying in one town, letting Sammy have a year without interruptions. Giving him his normal so he wouldn't take off to find it somewhere else one day. It didn’t quite work out the way he had hoped in the long run, but it was a good year.

They drove all night back to Maine, crashed hard for a few hours and then drove the rest of the way to Deepneau‘s house. Rumford, Maine isn’t too far from where they were originally, and it strikes Dean, makes him feel weird. He doesn’t think about it too hard, though. He reaches forward and rings the bell, it echoes back to them through thin walls. Dean looks around him, bends to peek through the curtains hanging over the windows by the front door. Sam punches him in the shoulder and he straightens, glares.

When the old man finally answers the door, he stands there, tall, hair gray and falling out, but he’s stoic and sure, and Dean wonders if that’s what Sam will look like when he’s old. Hopes Sam makes it to be that old. He reaches into his pocket to pull out his ID badge, but Sam beats him to the punch. His brother holds out his hand and waits for the man to take it before introducing himself.

“Mr. Deepneau? I’m Sam Winchester, and this is my brother Dean.” Dean shoots him a look, wondering why his brother is giving this guy their real names. They don’t know him from Adam, don’t know if they can trust him. The man frowns, but nods and steps back to let them in before turning and going down a small hallway.

“Figured you boys would show up soon enough. Or someone like you,” he says. His voice echoes back to them as they step through the door and close it behind them. They follow Deepneau, Dean looking in the various rooms they pass - living room that’s very well lived in, dining attached to that with a long wooden table piled high with books. It’s not unlike Bobby’s place, and Dean thinks maybe if the two men were to ever meet, they’d hit it off over the volumes alone. In front of them is a kitchen, bright and clean.

Deepneau turns right and into a small study. It’s covered in books as well, scattered in piles around the room, floor to ceiling shelves filled to burst. In the center is a large wooden desk that’s piled high with papers and a very modern looking computer. There are paintings on the wall, watercolors in vibrant reds, dark browns and blacks. The one closest to Dean looks to be of a large black, glass orb. Step a little closer, and he thinks he sees a rose.

"You let a lot of things outta that gate, boys.”

Deepnau draws Dean’s attention away from the painting, and he shoots Sam a look, but he only shrugs. Didn’t really think it was common knowledge that they were the ones who opened the gate to hell. Deepneau must see their surprise, though, because he laughs a little. Though it lacks any humor.

“I may not be a hunter, but I do have friends who are. Word travels fast in our circle, you know, and there’s a lot of folks who aren’t very happy with the two of you right now.”

Sam tenses and looks at Dean, quietly asking if they should take off. Dean knows Sam’s had the want to steal him away and hide ever since he sold his soul. He would do the exact same thing for Sam. It wouldn't do any good, if the end comes, but he wants to keep Dean safe and alive, so Sam’ll do just about anything. Dean's afraid of what that would mean for this guy, if he were to sell them out.

“I always wanted to be famous,” Dean says.

“Shardik isn't possessed by a demon, though,” Deepneau continues, unaffected by Dean‘s snark. “He‘s gone bad, he‘s sick and he‘s dying. He’s never attacked people before. But, I guess, you go pokin’ around something that ain’t your business, you pay for it. Went up myself, not too long ago. Came back with a nice souvenir.“

Deepneau rolls the sleeve of his shirt up to reveal four claw marks along his forearm, an angry, healing red. Still puffy enough to be recent, but on their way to fading fine. Nodding, he then reaches into his drawer and pulls out some heavy looking leather tome and flips through it, mumbling to himself.

“It’s hard to explain, and it sounds crazy. When Calvin first told me, I thought... I don’t know. I thought maybe his illness has gotten the better of him.”

“What do you mean, illness? I thought he had a heart attack.”

“That’s how he died, yes. But he had something… in his bones, a cancer maybe. By the end, he could barely even get out of bed for the pain in his hips. It’s hard. Watching someone go through that? Slowly dying, and there’s nothing you can do about it. I‘m almost glad the heart attack took him when it did.”

Deepneau trails off and seems to escape into his mind for a second. His words hang heavy between Sam and Dean, and Dean tries not to look at his brother. He hates seeing the look in Sam’s eyes these days. Hates seeing the promise there that he knows Sam can’t keep.

He clears his throat to get the old man’s attention again, because while he feels bad for the guy, they have a case to solve. “So this… Shardik? How are we supposed to stop it?”

Deepneau snaps out of his thoughts and looks at them for a moment. Sam offers a tight smile - his sympathy face, even though Dean thinks he doesn’t quite mean it this time - and Deepneau looks away. “There’s some things you should know first. Shardik isn’t your average bear…”

Dean snorts and Sam shoots him a look, but Deepneau smiles, obviously aware of what he’s said. “He’s a guardian.”

“A guardian of what?”

Deepneau holds up a finger to silence Dean before continuing, “No one knows exactly when he was created. There was a time when people had forgotten he existed. We go about our lives, and the world, for the most part, continues to spin without problems. But Calvin knew, he felt the quakes and he figured out what was going on.

“There are six beams, each meeting at a central point. These beams, they hold up the universe. All universes. And if the beams break, the central point - the tower that holds them all together - it breaks, too.”

“And we go with it,” Sam says, understanding.

Deepneau nods and flips through his book again, the swish-swish of pages the only noise in the quiet room for long minutes. “He’s not the only one - there are others. Each end of the beam is guarded by a different animal. A turtle, hare, fish. You get the idea?”

"So, what? After we get rid of Pooh, we've gotta go after Tigger and Piglet, too?" Dean snarks.

Deepneau angrily closes the book and slams it down on his desk, causing both brothers to jump at the sudden noise . He glares at Dean. Dean has enough sense to look chastised as Deepneau rounds the desk to stand directly in front of them, rage still clear on his face and no barriers between them.

"You think this is funny? We're not just talking about the end of the world: this is bigger than that. We're talking every possible spec of a universe and everything, every _one_ in it. The least of your worries will be hell on earth because there will _be_ no earth. Now tell me how funny that is."

“Sorry,” Dean mumbles in apology and shifts uncomfortably. “What are we supposed to do? We tried an exorcism and it didn’t work. If we can’t kill him, how are we supposed to stop him?”

“You _have to_ kill him,” Deepneau says, and Dean begins to wonder if maybe he’s not the one who’s gone nuts.

“You just said if he dies, we all die, and now we’re supposed to kill him? Look, no offense, dude, but I think you _are_ fucking crazy.” Dean grabs Sam by the elbow and turns to leave the room, but Deepneau steps in front of him and blocks his exit.

“I told you it didn’t make any sense, but you can’t just walk out of here. If you do, things are gonna be a hell of a lot worse than you can even imagine. Hear me out.”

Sam wrenches his arm free of Dean’s grasp, and Dean turns to glare at him, but Sam just shoots him a look. He begs Dean to stay with his eyes, _what could it hurt, Dean?_ and Dean sighs.

“So how do we kill this thing?”

Deepneau nods slightly, and then he walks back to his desk again, picks up the book, and sits. Dean follows and takes the chair directly in front of the wooden monstrosity in the middle of the room. He’s still convinced the guy is out of his fucking mind, but he’ll hear him out for Sam’s sake. Maybe he’ll get a good laugh.

“Shardik, the others, they’re said to be magic. That’s what Calvin told me, at least. I haven’t been stupid enough to go back and find out. There’s a spell, though. Should bind him long enough, keep him still. Take him out, right between the eyes.”

“But if we kill him, won’t his end of the beam break?”

Deepneau nods again, sighs and rubs his hand over his face. Dean feels his suspicion fade a little. The guy looks like he believes what he’s saying, and while that’s a good sign of insanity, in their line of work it usually means the person is also telling the truth.

“It’s better only him than all of them. You stop him, you figure out what’s going on, then you can keep it from happening to the others. It can’t all go down at once, it would raise too much suspicion. There are quakes. They started when Shardik first got sick, and they’ve only gotten greater and lasted longer. That’s the beam breaking. My guess is this whole thing is being controlled by someone. You’d do best to find out who.”

\--- 

The clerk at the desk only looks at him a little funny when Dean goes in to rent another room at the same motel they’d been in before heading to New York. He peers around Dean to glance at Sam and smirks, but Dean doesn’t have time to reply. He snatches the key from the guy’s hand and glares at him after signing the credit card slip, makes sure the screen door bangs behind him as he leaves.

He stalks back to the car and drives them over to their room, kicks Sam out and tells him he’ll be back. Whenever. Sam frowns but doesn’t ask any questions even though Dean knows he’s dying to, can practically see Sam biting his tongue. He throws the car into drive and kicks up gravel as he speeds away. He watches Sam in the rearview until he turns the corner and the motel is no longer in sight. He can just imagine the confused look in Sam’s face, most likely mixed with annoyance because that’s Sam.

He shouldn’t be reacting this way to the clerk, he knows that. Doesn’t know why he is. It’s not the first time strangers have assumed he and Sam are more than friends, brothers. That they're partners in a different sense. But now there’s something burning in his blood, a fire of want that makes the assumptions true, and he doesn’t think it’s anyone’s damn business.

The rumbling in his belly jerks him from his thoughts, reminds him just how long it’s been since he’s actually eaten something. He’d just been intending to ride around for a while, but now he has a destination in mind. Convenience store will have to do for now, pick up some sandwiches and beer and call it a night.

He pulls into the lot of the one that looks the cleanest, looks like it'll have more than stale cupcakes and motor oil to choose from. The lights are bright, and once he steps inside it looks neat, modern. He gets a hot dog from the machine by the coffee, not even bothering with a bun, and makes his way to the coolers.

He grabs a couple of six-packs then backtracks to the chips. He's standing there debating on whether he wants barbecue or plain when there’s a light tap to his shoulder and, looking up, he’s surprised to see the woman from the bar.

“Well, hey there,” he says, grinning. Hopes there are no hot dog bits stuck in his teeth.

“Hello, Dean. Nice to see you again.” She smiles at him and looks between the chips and beer, back to his eyes. “That’s not much of a meal.” She trails a finger down his arm and Dean watches, red lacquer bright against the brown of his leather jacket. “What do you say you and I get outta here? Go back to my place, I‘ll cook you up something proper.”

And Dean does like his women forward. Her finger stops at his wrist, rests there, and the heat of her seeps into his skin. She smells amazing. He wants to go home with her, he really does. He can almost tell what she tastes like, the kinds of noises she’d make, but then there’s Sam. Whatever is going on with them, he needs to be there to figure it out, he can’t take off with some woman… some gorgeous woman, until they do.

 _Hell yes,_ he wants to say. “I would love to, really,” he says instead. “But my brother’s back at the motel, and he gets real cranky when he doesn’t eat. I’ll definitely take a rain check, though.”

The woman pouts and steps back, looking about as let down as Dean feels. Freakin’ Sam.

“That‘s too bad, Dean. I was really looking forward to it.”

Dean wants to agree, but she doesn’t give him the chance, turns on her heel and leaves the store without buying anything. Dean watches her go, growls lightly and goes to pay for the sandwiches he came for once she‘s out of sight. Then he goes back to the motel and tries not to kick Sam’s ass.  


\---

They follow the same route they took the first time into the woods, get to the clearing they stayed the night at a lot faster this time around. They figure, wounded, the bear couldn’t have gotten too far. Sam sets up the supplies they brought for the spell Deepneau gave them, and Dean is once again designated bait. He sets off towards the woods, Sam shouting after him to be careful.

It doesn’t take him long to find Shardik. It's rummaging around a thicket of trees less than a quarter of a mile away from where Sam is, back to Dean. Its breathing is heavy, and Dean figures it's probably close to death anyway, its brown hair looking sharp to the touch, matted and dirty and glistening with sweat. Ugly. A bullet between the eyes would be a mercy.

“Hey!” he yells to get the bear's attention, steeling himself to turn and run, and the bear doesn’t disappoint. It jerks its head up, catches sight of Dean through watery eyes and lets out a roar before charging.

The ground shakes beneath Dean’s feet as he runs back to the clearing, strong vibrations that nearly send him ass over feet, but he manages to stay upright. He breaks through the line of trees after a short moment and shouts Sam’s name. Sam stands there in a circle of candles and hex bags filled with nasty things, paper clutched in his hand.

His brother’s voice carries over him, loud and sure. Dean’s always been amazed at how good Sam is at Latin. He’s had enough practice, sure, but so has Dean, and he’s never been that articulate. Sam really gets into it, and Dean likes the way the words roll off his brother’s tongue.

The last few words are in a language Dean’s never heard before, and by the way Sam stutters over them Dean thinks he hasn’t either. He hopes the fumbling doesn’t mess up the spell.

“Can-tah,” Sam says loudly, and Dean comes to a stop behind him. Then, “Khef-char, tah.”

The ground stops shaking and the bear freezes mid-tracks, front paw raised and mouth open in a silent yell. He looks stuffed, like some hunter’s prize kept on a pedestal, _that is freakin‘ awesome_. Sam chuckles and Dean steps forward, arm outstretched to poke.

“What are you doing?”

“I just want to see,” he says, but Sam grabs his arm before he can get any closer.

“Dude, we don’t know what could happen, stop it.”

Dean frowns but lowers his arm, mumbles at Sam that he’s no fun. His brother just rolls his eyes, though, and stuffs the spell into his pocket. When Sam turns to grab the Colt, Dean pokes the bear in the snout, his finger coming back covered in snot.

“Son of a bitch,” he whispers and shakes the mess from his fingers.

“I told you not to touch it,” Sam says.

“Whatever, let’s just do this.”

Sam hands Dean the colt, and Dean steps in front of the still bear. Up close, Dean can see a small mark on the bear's forehead, right between its eyes where Deepneau said to aim. It’s half hidden by matted fur, but it’s silver and round, and when Dean reaches out to move some of the fur out of the way, he’d swear it looks like a satellite.

“Hurry up, Dean. I don’t know how long the spell will hold.” Sam nudges him, and Dean backs up, takes aim. He feels kind of bad, shooting it while it’s unable to defend itself, but he knows that if he were to let it go it would only tear him and Sam apart, then move on to some unsuspecting schmuck on a camp out.

When the bullet enters Shardik’s head, it’s almost like what happens with a demon. Electricity crackles through it, and the ground shakes so violently that it throws both him and Sam off balance, and they hit the ground hard. Dean panics for a second, wonders aloud if the bear had a friend, if they should haul ass.

“The beam’s breaking, remember? Deepneau said when they break, it causes quakes,” Sam says. “This is why they’re taking them out one at a time.”

When the shaking stops, there are fallen trees, cracks in the earth. Shardik still stands where Dean shot him. When they get up from the ground, Dean begins packing up their supplies, and Sam finishes up the spell, releasing the bear to fall where it stands.

“Can-Alleyo, laxo.”

Shardik hits the ground at their feet, causing one final shake there in the clearing.

\--- 

On the way out of town, Dean stops at the gas station. He leaves Sam in the passenger seat flipping through a pile of books they'd picked up at the town’s library. They’re not much, but Sam’s happy enough with them, and that’s what counts.

The bell above the door jingles as Dean enters the small building next to the pumps and rings the silver bell on the counter for service. While he waits, he skims the collection of skin mags that are for sale, frowning in disappointment when they’re all issues he’s seen before.

After a few minutes and a second tap to the bell, the clerk finally comes out, and it’s certainly not who he was expecting.

“Hey there, Dean.”

The woman from the bar steps up behind the counter and leans on the chipped Formica, arms folded out in front of her to push her breasts up and into his face. She’s not exactly dressed for working in a gas station - they practically fall out of her top.

“Hey…” He trails off, frowning, and tries to remember if she ever actually told him who she was. She cocks her head, smiles at him and taps her red painted fingernails along the counter top, waiting patiently.

He thinks back to the other two times he ran into her, and he realizes that he never actually told her his name either. And then it hits him - he remembers Deepneau's words about someone possibly controlling Shardik. He quickly reaches for his gun, aims, levels it at her as she makes her way slowly around the counter.

“You and I both know that’s not going to hurt me, Dean.” She smirks at him and flicks her wrist, sends the gun flying across the store. It goes off on impact, and a second later he hears the Impala’s door squeak open and closed. She turns her gaze towards the set of windows and watches, small smile playing on her lips.

Sam runs in seconds later, Colt in hand. He tosses it to Dean, and Dean wants to kiss his brother for always being one step ahead. He says Christo, just to be sure, and is rewarded with the demon's true colors.

“Well,” she starts, “that can do a little more damage.”

Dean smirks at her, finger trigger at the ready, and says, “Tell me what you know.”

"I don't know anything, Dean."

"You don't know or you don't want to tell me?"

He steps forward, Colt still lowered, but he’s lightning quick, can take her out within a second. All she has to do is give him a reason.

"Both. If I did know, you'd be the last person I would tell. Now your brother, on the other hand, I would tell him everything." The demon turns her gaze towards Sam, and Dean can feel his stomach tighten, his skin crawling.

He grabs her by the throat, and she chokes out a laugh. "Don't you even look at him!"

The demon rolls her eyes, and Dean tightens his grip on her throat in frustration, but that only makes her laugh again. It’s high and crazy, and her eyes flick black. “You let a lot of things out of the gate besides demons, boys,” she says with a grin, echoing Deepneau’s words almost exactly. Dean hopes the old man is still safe, tucked away behind a book in his small, cluttered study. He hopes, but he doubts it.

“Things you couldn’t even imagine. All things serve the beam and all things serve the king - you will too. Just you wait,” she sing-songs.

“Stop fucking around and tell us,” Dean snarls at her.

“We’ve all got our bosses, baby. You of all people know that: following Daddy around like a puppy on a leash.” Her eyes flick back to their regular color, and she looks at Dean with fake sadness, pity. It makes him sick to his stomach. “And now Sam? You take orders from him and let him drag you around, and all the while you pretend. Because you’re afraid of him, aren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

“It’s okay to be scared, Dean. Your daddy was scared too.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean says to her. She bares her teeth at him in an imitation of a grin, and Dean sees now that she’s not as pretty as he had thought she was. Her hair hangs limp, and her face is aged, scarred. He doesn’t know what kind of a woman she was before the demon possessed her, and he knows that he won’t get the chance to find out. Doesn’t want to.

“If only you could‘ve seen him, down there in Hell. And what you did? Such a nice way to say thank you for his sacrifice. Of course, you‘ll find out soon enough, won‘t you?”

Dean shoves her away, and she stumbles over her high heels, falls to the dirty gas station floor with a small grunt. Sam doesn’t even try to stop Dean when he raises the Colt and aims.

“Go ahead and shoot me, Dean. It’s not like it’ll make a difference in the end. I’ll still see you in Hell.”

“You tell me how to stop this!” he shouts at her, but she isn’t affected. She only grins up at him again, eyes black and empty, and doesn’t say a word.

She stays quiet even when the gun explodes and the bullet enters her forehead.

\---

Dean waits while Sam fills a gas can with fuel, and then runs it around to the front of the tiny building, where he tosses the red canister into the backseat of the Impala. Afterwards his brother stands next to him as he lights a match, flicks it and watches it light the gas and circle the building in a blinding ring of fire. The sound of the fire engines is what chases them out of town, and neither one of them looks back in the rear view.

Five miles outside of town, Dean pulls the car over to the side of the road, leans over the steering wheel and just laughs. They’re in so far over their fucking heads there’s no way they’ll ever be able to get out, and he probably just sent their only hope of figuring it out back to hell without a second thought.

It should scare him, the lengths he just went to. Knows that it’s exactly what Sam did in Ohio, the same thing that scared the shit out of him. He didn’t even stop and consider the body the demon was inhabiting.

“Dude,” Sam says and stops because Dean just laughs harder. When he finally quiets there are tears in his eyes, and Sam’s looking at him like he’s lost his damn mind. He probably has.

“Sorry, Sammy,” he says and means it. He tries not to regret making the deal; he doesn‘t have room in his head for something like that, and it’s too late, besides. But there are moments when he thinks about it, the things he didn‘t get to do, when he thinks about Sam being alone. Yeah, he regrets.

“Dean, what she said. I - ”

“Not now, Sam.”

Sam clenches his jaw and stares out the window, eyes shiny with tears, and Dean‘s still not in the mood for that chat, but Sam nods. Sam’s never been one to give up on anything, and Dean knows he won’t give up on their talk, knows that Sam won’t give up on him, either. No matter how much Dean begs him to stop. He’s stubborn, just like John and just like Dean. And Dean loves Sam for it.

Dean made the decision a long time ago, and now’s a better time than any. They’ve got no one else, and he doesn’t want anyone else, and he knows he’s got regrets, but this? This won’t be one of them.

He reaches across the seat and threads his fingers through the hair at the nape of his brother’s neck, pulls and tugs until Sam looks at him, until Sam is bending towards him, and he presses their foreheads together. They stay like that for a moment, Dean closing his eyes and trying to even his breathing with Sam’s.

It’s the middle of the day on some highway in Maine, they’ve just slaughtered a bear, for God’s sake, and he’s about to kiss his brother. Maybe more, he hasn‘t thought that far ahead yet. When they leave, he doesn’t know where they’ll end up. Maybe Bobby’s or maybe Washington. Somewhere in between or nowhere at all. There’ll be no laying low, though. There’s always going to be a fight for them.

He licks his lips and opens his eyes, blurry, but Sam is focused on Dean’s mouth. Dean grins, cocky and sure because he could never pull off sexy, but it always works. Works now, too, on Sammy. Dean closes the distance that’s left between them and kisses his brother, finally, proper, for the first time. It’s not weird and it’s not perfect, but it’s them and it’s everything he’d expected.

Sam moans against his mouth, and Dean feels his brother’s tongue searching so he opens up for him. He knows whatever it is they’re starting isn’t going to be easy, but Dean’s entire life has never been easy, and he’s willing to make sacrifices. With Sam making those noises, clutching desperately at Dean’s jacket, he thinks the choice has been made for him anyway. There’s no backing out now, even if he wanted to. Which he doesn’t.

They break apart after a few moments, and Dean smiles before turning the car back on, throwing her into drive and pulling back onto the road. He reaches over and turns on the radio, sings along to Paul Rogers while Sam settles in next to him and cracks open a paperback.

There’s always going to be a fight for them. This they can have, though, for however long it’s there for them.


End file.
